


Qverlord and Secretagentman007

by releasetheglitch



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: But Honestly It's Mostly Crack, Crack, Humour, M/M, Some Porn Snuck In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/releasetheglitch/pseuds/releasetheglitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q has a guilty pleasure. James takes offense at the time limit on Snapchat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Qverlord and Secretagentman007

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idea that Q would send James pictures of random cats he encounters on his way to work.
> 
> I don't know what happened either.

Q was a genius. That much, no one could deny. He could take down governments with a stroke of the keyboard and blow up small countries before his first cup of Earl Grey. Anyone who didn't agree that Q was a force of nature to be reckoned with needed their head checked.

 

However, as elegant and pristine as Q's coding was, he was still a mere mortal, and subject to vices like all other mortals.

 

Phone apps, to be precise.

 

Other people indulged in terrible movies. Perhaps greasy fried foods, or shopping trips that wiped out half of one's annual earnings in one go. Q favoured the Top 10 section of the app store. It was funny, considering he could write most of those apps in his sleep, but he downloaded them compulsively and devoted hours of his life to them, completely unabashed.

 

***

 

James came home one night and found Q hunched on the bed, murmuring to himself feverishly in the pale glow of a phone screen.

 

"I thought we agreed to stop bringing work into the bedroom?" he teased, kissing a languid line down Q's knobbly spine through the oversized shirt—stolen from his drawers, he noticed—that threatened to fall off his shoulders.

 

Q hummed, barely paying attention. "Don't distract me, double-oh seven. My birds are in the process of toppling the infrastructure of these thieving pigs, and I assure you, the damage will be no less elegant than the work I did on the Chinese government last week."

 

James didn't understand what that meant, but he had the sinking suspicion he wasn't going to be getting any that night.

 

***

 

Next in the line of Q's dabbling obsessions was QuizUp, and unfortunately for James, this meant a seething quartermaster spouting bizarre facts at the most inopportune of moments.

 

"Unbelievable," Q would rage over breakfast, hands flying wildly as James rescued the butter dish from a similar fate as the green pigs in Q's phone. "Who the bloody hell cares how many times the daleks have appeared in New Who? Never mind the fact that I'm the one clever enough to be producing artificial dalekanium  in the labs and hiding it from M. How dare they imply this fifteen year old girl knows more about Doctor Who than I do?"

 

The fifteen year old girl in question wore a red fez and a blue dress with a phone box printed on it in her profile picture. She was brandishing what looked like a flashlight mounted onto a screwdriver. James wondered where Q found these people.

 

Just then, his phone beeped, and Q snatched it back.

 

"Oh look, a message!"

 

_Close game! Rematch? :)_

 

Q growled, stalking to the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Nonplussed, James stole the scrambled eggs off his plate instead of attempting to understand. Q was an odd one.

 

However, Q did revel in the fact that he was the worldwide champion in the computer science category by a wide margin.

 

"Ten million points, bow down before your overlord!" he would crow, shoving the phone smugly into Bond's face.

 

James quietly did the math to determine exactly how many games Q had played to get those numbers, and blanched at the results. How the fuck did Q ever get any work done?

 

***

"Q, as much as I appreciate the thought, I don't think an app named 'Sexii Dirty Fun 18+' will be in any way beneficial to our sex life."

 

"Don't a prude," informed Q primly, long fingers working rapidly on James' shirt buttons. “I found this one position that’s guaranteed to blow your mind, just you wait.”

 

James trusted Q, he really did. There was no one he’d rather have in his ear on a mission when angry assassins were after him and he had a bullet wound in his dominant arm, but he couldn’t help but be skeptical when Q manoeuvred his legs up in the air until his knees hit his chest and proceeded to sink down on James' cock, shifting as he found his balance.

 

"This is called the ape position," Q explained helpfully, that bloody phone an ever-present fixture in his hands. "Now let's see…"

 

Q began to ride him, bouncing up and down slowly at first, then more and more energetically. And it was good, hell, sex with Q was always great but to be honest it didn't feel much different from the other times when Q rode him. Whatever made Q happy, he supposed.

 

Then with a squeal, Q lost his balance and toppled off his thighs.

 

Toppled off their bed.

 

"Was that in the instructions?" James asked, and was unsurprised when a pillow smacked into his face.

 

***

 

And then there was the Snapchat incident.

 

To James' bemusement, the entirety of MI6 seemed to have gotten swept away in the craze. He walked past the Human Resources branch one day and found a gaggle of young men and women in suits, clustered tightly and making appalling faces into their phones. At a look from the double-oh agent, the small group squeaked in fear and dissembled quickly.

 

If only all his problems could be solved so effortlessly.

 

Unbeknownst to him, Q had installed the app on his phone and set up an account for him under the username "secretagentman007". He mostly forgot about it until the day his phone flashed with the irritatingly enthusiastic message: "moneypants has sent you a snap!"

 

Grumbling under his breath, James opened it. There was a picture of Moneypenny sitting at her desk, making an exaggerated pouty face with the caption "bored @ work :( #MI6humpdays #noterroristsinsight"

 

James ignored her.

 

Next was M, and honestly, how had they roped him into this nonsense? Still, there was a certain level of surreal "what-is-my-life" fuckery to be found in opening a picture of your boss with his eye pressed disturbingly close to the phone, with the words "WATCHING UR EVERY MOVE 007" blazoned across the screen.

 

When Alec returned from his mission in Berlin, James sought him out with the intention of griping about the situation in MI6 and possibly drinking his sorrows away. However, Alec, the traitor, was already brought up to date by Q.

 

"I’m ‘adorablepyro’. Isn't this app hilarious? Q's been using it to guilt trip me with pictures of equipment that I've broken. Luckily, he's got a soft spot for kittens so I've been retaliating with pictures of those."

 

Alec's first Snapchat story was a video of James punching through a plaster wall.

 

Q, devious man that he is, waited before instigating his assault on James. For the first few days after being reluctantly burdened with a Snapchat account, James checked his phone warily every so often, waiting for the moment the device would light up with a snap from "qverlord". As time went on, he gradually stopped anticipating an attack.

 

Rather stupid of him, in hindsight. Q was skinny and adorable and an absolute predator who used those traits to lull his victims into a false sense of security.

 

James was shooting in the gun range when his phone went off. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he thumbed open his phone and pressed blindly at his notifications without paying much attention.

 

And almost lost his grip when confronted with a snap of Q, sitting at his desk with his trousers pulled down, hard cock leaking a puddle of precum over his hand. He wasn't wearing any briefs.

 

It was captioned "thinking about my favourite agent ;)"

 

James groaned, glancing around to make sure no one was around before reaching down to palm at his own stiffening cock through his trousers.

 

The picture disappeared after five seconds and James clicked around the app desperately, attempting to relocate it. Clicking on Q's username only opened up the camera, reflecting his own frustrated desire back at him. Giving up, he took a quick picture of his face. "show me more."

 

He waited with bated breath as the square next to Q's name turned into an arrow, indicating that he'd seen it. A moment later, a new snap came through and he clicked it eagerly.

 

He could hardly hold back his moan at the next picture. Q's arse was tilted upwards, feet presumably propped up on his desk. His hole was stretched invitingly around two fingers and a glistening trail of lube ran down his balls. The picture was blurry, as if the photographer was trembling too hard with pleasure to allow the camera to focus properly. He and Q had done far more obscene things in the bedroom, but for some reason, that thought sent spikes of arousal down his thighs.

 

James was leaning against the wall now, his trousers open and hard cock gripped firmly in his palm. He was thankful that no cameras had been installed here. If anyone could see what he was doing, they'd laugh at how Q had reduced him to wanking in the middle of MI6 facilities, not even bothering to find a washroom stall for modesty.

 

Working his length furiously, he almost roared when this photo disappeared too. "Fuck!"

 

He was about to toss his phone across the room, sod it all, and storm into Q-branch and fuck Q over his desk when he realized that he had another notification. Almost dreading it, he opened the latest snap from Q.

 

And oh, oh fuck. A full body view this time. knelt up on his chair, giving him an unrestricted view of soft arse cheeks, pale and plump enough to rival any woman's. James could catch a glimpse of the shadow of his balls through his spread legs, and his hooded eyes as he glanced backwards at the phone, staring almost challengingly at James through the small screen. But as appealing as these things were, what drew his attention immediately was the large plug nestled in his hole.

 

It was purple.

 

Purple and sparkly.

 

With a crystal sunken into the base.

 

With that realization, he was coming. Coming so hard his vision went white and ropes of white splattered onto the ground and some unlucky bastard was going to step in that if he didn't clean it up, but at the moment he couldn't be arsed. James sunk to the ground, panting hard, and shook his head ruefully at ever having expected mercy from his quartermaster.

 

He wasn't a sore loser though, and could accept defeat gracefully. Retrieving his phone from where it had fallen, he aligned the lens in front of  his wet cock, fingers skidding clumsily across the screen as he sent a final picture to his quartermaster, captioned simply "thanks, Q."

 

That would have been the end of it if it wasn't for what happened ten minutes later, when he'd finally caught his breath and tucked himself back into his pants, walking out of the gun range as though nothing had happened.

 

He thought he could hear giggles and whispers as he strode purposefully through the halls on his way to Q-branch. But when he turned around, no one met his eyes, pretending to be absorbed in their work.

 

With a rising sense of apprehension, he pushed open the doors to Q-branch. Q had come out of his office and was sitting in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like boffin royalty as he overlooked the sea of minions ( _No one would ever know that he had a purple plug up his arse,_ James reflected dryly). When he saw James, he suddenly broke down into giggles. As did the rest of Q-branch.

 

"What?" James frowned.

 

Shuddering uncontrollably with laughter, Q handed his phone to James. It was open to—of course—Snapchat. Scrolling through it with confusion, James noticed that one of Q's friends had posted a new story.

 

It was him.

 

_Oh bugger._

 

His own phone vibrated then with a call from Alec. "Yes?" he asked slowly.

 

"James, you perv! Look, as much as I support your relationship with the quartermaster, I don't need to know what you two get up to in MI6 headquarters. Or how big your dick is, for that matter."

 

Q howled, and James decided that he really, _really_ hated technology.


End file.
